


We get so tired and lonely

by sigmalibrae



Category: Terminator (Movies), Terminator - All Media Types, Terminator: Dark Fate (2019)
Genre: Banter, F/F, Fingerfucking, Light Angst, Movie: Terminator: Dark Fate, Multiple Orgasms, Mutually annoyed stress fucking, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, These two are extremely Rude to each other but that's also part of the ~dynamic~, [Lemondemon voice] two tops having sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:55:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21628732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sigmalibrae/pseuds/sigmalibrae
Summary: "If it’s a question of getting off, I can volunteer to assist.”“Excuse me?”Sarah just shrugs, standing nonchalantly, yawning a little as she does so. “You heard me. Seems like you’ve got some issues to work out, and you’re way too tense to do a good job at what you’re attempting. You’re going to get sloppy, if you don’t figure out a way to burn off some stress. For me, it’s been depressants and the occasional one-night stand. You think I haven’t made peace with my own inclinations the last several years I’ve been alive? I go both ways, if that helps.”“I… you… howfuckingdare you, I couldn’t! Not when Dani–”This time, Sarah laughs. “Dani doesn’t even realize yet that youknowher!”--(We all need a human touch; don't wanna give ourselves away too much)Or, Grace and Sarah fuck in the motel room when Dani's not around.
Relationships: Sarah Connor/Grace
Comments: 27
Kudos: 53





	We get so tired and lonely

_Head up straight  
I know what I'm doing  
I don't – _

* * *

The woman looks Grace up and down before jeering, “I’ve never seen one like you before. Almost human.”

Grace can’t help but sneer in return. “I am human. Just enhanced. You know; increased speed and strength? Which means I can rip your throat out if you piss me off, so don't. Your turn.”

She gives Grace another ones of those calculating stares before she steps closer, chewing on the inside of her cheek, swagger in her motions, sitting back heavily on the edge of the bed with her arms behind her. Grace feels a prickle down her spine – almost flings an arm out as though Dani needed shielding. But then the woman speaks.

“My name is Sarah Connor. When I was about her age,” she nods towards Dani, “a Terminator was sent to kill me. To stop the birth of my son, John. Leader of the Resistance. We changed the future. Saved three billion lives.”

Her look goes distant, for an instance, softer, before she scoffs, derisive. “You’re welcome.”

\--

They don’t end up leaving, not right away. Before they hit the road, it’s decided to spend another night at the motel – Grace spends it in near-agony, wrapped around Dani who requested her presence. Trying not to move. Aiming not to wake her. Wondering what she’s supposed to do with all these memories, a lifetime and at least twenty years in the future – one that Grace knows she’ll never get back to. If the Terminator doesn’t get them, her sped-up metabolism will; all the medicine in the world can’t prevent her from burning herself out early. Something to do with the telomeres, her cellular structure; Grace is going to flare out like a supernova, sooner or later, and she just hopes it’ll be late enough to make good on her promise.

Needless to say, she doesn’t get much sleep. When she does, it’s so deep that she wakes up to find Dani has slipped out from under her and Sarah’s watch _again_.

“Why didn’t you stop her!”

Sarah shrugs, all-too unconcerned, more focused on the gun in her hands that she’s reassembling in the grey light of the room, curtains still drawn. “You think you’re the only one who needs to get some rest around here? Give me a break.”

“It’s our job to protect her--”

“And there’s only so many times we can tell her what the stakes are. After that, it's entirely up to her whether she believes us or not.” Sarah puts down the gun, wipes her fingers on a rag which she drops to the floor. “If she’s capable of handling more than you seem to think she can, fine; if not, then a splinter timeline will start up. If you’re both here, apparently I’m not the lead character anymore. What makes you think that out of the billions of humans on Earth, there’s not at least one more chosen one? Who is this girl to you, anyways?”

Grace can’t answer. Apparently that’s enough. Sarah just nods.

“Ah. So that’s it. When did you fall in love with her?”

“She’s my _commander.”_

A low whistle. An urge to deck Sarah nearly overpowers Grace, but she quiets the instinct; if she riles herself up too much, she’ll crash or be compromised later when it actually matters. “Power differentials. Interesting. Kyle and I, we were on more of an equal footing.”

Here, Sarah stops. She opts for a swig from her hip flask instead, wiping her mouth in the aftermath. Gets up and goes to the bathroom, where Grace hears her turn on the faucet and wash her hands. Grace still doesn’t move.

“You don’t know _anything_ about us.”

“Enough to figure out you did the same thing that my guy did. Come back in time, try to save the person you love. Maybe you’ll succeed.” Sarah stares her down as she re-enters the room, crosses back to the chair and flops into it. “Maybe not. I just know what I’m going to do, and that’s fuck up the thing that’s after you both. Must be a new model.”

“You’re getting distracted, don’t change the subject. What happened to him? Kyle?”

“We’re not on that level. You haven’t earned that.”

“…Fine.”

Sarah leans back, every inch of her posture oozing disrespect as usual. Or maybe this woman’s just lived a death wish so long that she doesn’t know how _not_ to project an aura of contempt. Grace gets that same prickle down her spine as the night before when she was under Sarah's regard; she’s _annoyed_ , and that doesn’t happen very often. 

“You know, you’re so serious for someone in your position. Kyle at least had the balls to make a move, not to complicate things by letting on to any shit he was dealing with from the future. If he knew what we’d become, I never found out one way or another. What are you hiding from Dani? Did you sleep together, when you’re from?”

That’s going too far. Grace feels her heartrate kick up, a tang at the back of her mouth. “Shut up.”

“I’m not prejudiced.”

“That’s not the point.”

“Did you _want_ to sleep with her?”

“I told you to shut up!”

“Because if it’s a question of getting off, I can volunteer to assist.”

“ _Excuse me?_ ”

This time, Grace’s body moves before she’s aware of it – she’s on her feet, squaring off, fists clenched at her sides and vibrating, every fibre in her aching to move closer. 

Sarah just shrugs, standing nonchalantly, yawning a little as she does so. “You heard me. Seems like you’ve got some issues to work out, and you’re _way_ too tense to do a good job at what you’re attempting. You’re going to get sloppy, if you don’t figure out a way to burn off some stress. For me, it’s been depressants and the occasional one-night stand. You think I haven’t made peace with my own inclinations the last several years I’ve been alive? I go both ways, if that helps.”

“I… you… how _fucking_ dare you, I couldn’t! Not when Dani–”

This time, Sarah laughs. “Dani doesn’t even realize yet that you _know_ her!”

_Crack._

Sarah staggers back. She turns her face forward, looking startled that Grace closed the distance between them so quickly; Grace’s arm still raised, in the upswing after she slapped her. The older woman turns her face forward, touches her jaw, and smiles. Spits out the corner of her mouth.

“That’ll leave a mark. I deserved that. But you need to hear it. Whoever you’re in love with, she doesn’t exist yet. If we succeed in what we aim to, she won’t ever _need_ to exist.”

“ _Stop_. I’ll do it again.”

“You came back willing to die for her. I’m sorry, but this is what that means!”

“Hearing that isn’t a _kindness_!” Grace snarls, and for the first time Sarah’s smirk falters. Fades.

“No. It’s not.”

“…Well. At least you admit it.”

Grace lets herself take a step or two backwards, slump against the wall. She feels the painted surface cool and solid against her shoulderblades. _Fuck_ , she’s tired. “How long until Dani gets back?”

“How’m I supposed to know? Aren’t you her self-appointed keeper? Don’t got her routines memorized yet?”

“I’m not asking because I’m worried.”

“Oh?”

Grace hears Sarah’s footfalls on the carpet, can see the soles of her boots stepping closer although her gaze is tilted down. Her cybernetic program kicks to life, calculating the distance between them. Displaying Grace’s biometrics in the corner of her vision, as Sarah pokes her face into view. Proximity whirrs like a Tesla coil between them.

“Then why are you asking?” Sarah wonders.

Grace surges. She knows Sarah has seen her move, gotten a recent demonstration of her speed, but doubts the older woman has really internalized the meaning of those experiences. It means she would have toppled over when Grace crashes into her, if Grace hadn’t reached out, preternaturally fast, and seized the front of Sarah’s flak vest to keep her standing. Sarah’s mouth is parted in shock, precursor to a shout, until Grace kisses her like a reflex.

Their teeth click together from the impact before Grace gets any sort of reciprocity back, but when she does…

Grace feels fingers reach around to the back of her skull and yank her in even closer. The touch crackles; Grace realizes just _how long_ it’s been since anyone’s gotten this close in a context that lacks violence. Frisson, near to panic, down her spine for an instant but Grace shoves it down. Her body’s a scream that’s been held in too long, and as she draws a quick breath, adjusts, kisses Sarah again but harder this time, it feels for the first time like she might have an outlet.

“Oh, is that how it is?” Sarah murmurs between kisses, in a tone like fine grit.

“I thought I told you… to shut up.”

“I guess this means you’re taking me up on–”

“I said – oh, never mind!” Impossible for Sarah to talk when her mouth is otherwise occupied but this time Grace bites a little against her lip, too harsh to be pleasant, a warning. Except Sarah laughs, once, and the readouts printed on her field of vision show an increase in heartrate, a heat map rush to the surface of Sarah’s skin as she draws back slightly.

“I’m pushing fifty-five, sweetheart. It’s going to take a lot more like that to get me going.”

“I’m not your _sweetheart_.” Grace retorts, then gasps as the hand threaded through her hair grips to jerk her head back.

Sarah’s mouth is on her, against her neck, right up to the jugular, the hum of her accelerated heart clear. A scrape of Sarah’s teeth, she sucks the skin, like poison from a wound, draws a shuddering gasp from Grace’s lungs. When there’s a livid mark to match the slow-appearing bruise on Sarah’s jaw from where Grace struck her earlier, Sarah eases away. Somehow, Grace got pushed up flush to the wall without realizing. Sarah’s body insistent on making and maintaining contact, with her foot planted between Grace’s still-shaky legs.

“No, you’re not my sweetheart.” Sarah agrees.

She releases Grace’s hair, rests her whole forearm against the wall. The other hand, she touches to Grace’s sternum – trails down her front, slipping beneath the hem of her tank top and splaying open-palmed against Grace’s navel. Her skin jumps. Sarah traces the dip of her bellybutton, the scars from her augmentation surgery, teases to one side so she can run a thumb along the waistband of Grace’s stolen jeans. To the dip where her hipbone creases lower. Watching Grace’s face the whole time. Grace wills it to keep still.

“You are something, though.” Sarah finishes.

For a second, Grace could swear she sees something other than ancient pain or snarling disdain on Sarah’s features… pity? Longing? Whatever it is, it’s too tender, and Grace closes her eyes so that she doesn’t have to see it.

“We’re wasting time,” she hears herself say, but it quavers a little and she feels tears peppering the inside of her eyelids, threatening to spill. She’s not supposed to be something worth wanting. And as soon as that happens, Sarah runs the back of her knuckles unseen, gentle, down the side of Grace’s neck; repeats it, this time stroking Grace’s cheek.

“Shh, none of that.”

As if acquiescing, though, she bends Grace’s face to meet hers, kissing her again – deeper, this time, undoing the closures at Grace’s waistband and slipping without difficulty inside. Fingers just a little calloused – all that wielding of heavy artillery – pinned against Grace’s body by fabric. They seek lower still until one dips into the warmth and the wet that’s already between Grace’s legs. She gasps, wasn’t expecting that, maybe should have… and did Sarah groan a little in response?

The finger crooks, slides up an increment; Grace feels herself nearly buckle, needy, hands snapping up to grip Sarah’s arms inadvertently. Sarah’s hand twitches, fingers making contact with her clit again, _fuck_ it’s been so long and no time at all since someone’s seen her like this, except that someone was Dani… 

“Ow.”

Dry, humourless. Grace opens her eyes with great effort to see Sarah’s grimace, registers that she’s applying too much force to Sarah’s biceps. Even though, uh, wow. They’re pure muscle. Grace sucks her lips in self-consciously for a second as she slowly relinquishes her grasp, seeing pale marks where her fingers were.

“Uh… sorry.”

“The wall was a bad idea.”

“Probably.”

Sarah adjusts her foot, uses a hipbone to nudge Grace so her stance is a little wider, a bit more supportive. “Put your hands above your head.”

“What?”

“Up.”

No sooner has Grace started to comply than Sarah’s got her bracketed up, pinned - and lower down, presses up and _in_. It sears, it’s like a flash grenade in the dark room of Grace’s nervous system, and although Sarah can’t be more than a knuckle deep with two, maybe three fingers, it’s enough to make Grace squirm. 

“Easy with the super-strength. I don’t have Kevlar wrapped around my bones.”

“S-sorry… ah–!”

Sarah glides her hand in, out, once, twice, a third time, more, until Grace can’t keep a measured breath going… then abruptly steps back and away. Grace almost falls forward, now, chasing after the void Sarah’s left between them – she _can’t_ stop – but Sarah pats her twice on the face, _wake up._

“Is that supposed to mean you want me on the bed, or something?” Grace manages.

“She’s _smart_ , too!”

But there are no barbs this time in her voice. So Grace strips off her shirt as she goes, determined that Sarah’s not the only one who gets to show off. She doesn’t need to look behind her to know that Sarah’s watching her go, makes sure to flex a little more than is strictly necessary. It gets a snort in reply, barely heard over the sound of Sarah undoing the Velcro and shucking her vest for the time being, but then Sarah’s pressing on her lower back to encourage her down. Grace turns as she tumbles, twists to lie and shimmy her pants off. No underwear - there wasn't time to steal any, so she's done without. Doesn’t get them halfway down her thighs before Sarah is kneeling over her, a knee on either side of Grace’s hips. She looks levelly, almost expressionless at Grace – that is, until she slides against Grace’s core once more, fingers more direct and certain now that she has some leverage, and Grace’s brain shorts out.

“Fuck–!”

“Easy…” Sarah curls her hand, then moves coated in slickness to rub sure and firm against Grace’s clit in earnest. She sits back, pinning Grace with her hips and getting a better angle, and to avoid a repeat of before Grace has to gather up the bedspread in her grasp just to have something to hold onto. A tearing sound, faint, but she can’t seem to care. Not when Sarah’s hot and easy, her touch gliding and good and exactly where it’s needed, bringing a stinging sweetness closer and closer.

“Oh god, oh _fuck_ –”

Sarah’s braced with her other hand somewhere beside Grace’s torso, bending over her, tension obvious in her shoulders as she dips back inside for a moment. “Shit, you’re sure making this simple for me.”

“I’m close.”

“Already?” Grace doesn’t know Sarah well enough, but could swear there’s margin of delight in her voice. “Not bad, for a first one.”

Grace can’t think. She’s zeroed in, spiralled out. If she’s not careful, if she hasn’t metabolized her last set of shots, this could trigger an episode; she’s wound too tightly, she can’t think, it’s too much–

“Breathe,” she hears Sarah say dimly, and when she does it’s like a gas flame _click-click-click_ ing on. She moans, which turns into a cry, and Sarah sucks in a breath of her own – redoubles, and then Grace is coming, hips trying to arch forward but not fully able, so the force of her orgasm crashes through her almost too strong.

And then it’s over, but she feels herself humming live-wired and sweat beading on her skin.

“…holy shit.”

“Holy shit is right – you nearly catapaulted me into the headboard. You’re lucky I used to bull ride at the bars back in my day.”

Grace sits up, over-quick, kissing Sarah as though Sarah is a personal source of oxygen – quick, darting, necessary. She needs to, she’s never not been able afterwards. And thank God, Sarah doesn’t push her away or go unresponsive, even if she’s taken aback.

“It’s never gone like that,” she admits at last.

“Gone like what? Is Dani that bad in the sack?”

“Don’t. And, no, obviously that’s not what I… that’s none of your business, Connor.”

“Maybe not.” But Sarah kneads a little at Grace’s shoulder, almost absentmindedly. “Care to explain?”

“It’s…” Grace becomes aware of the air around her and shivers. “Usually I…”

“Oh, I get it. Usually she goes first.”

She nods. Sarah shrugs, but there’s a glint in her eyes. “Well, I don’t operate like that.” She’s still straddling Grace. Runs a tickling light touch over her collarbones, just to feel Grace shudder. “Want more?”

The possibility of that hadn’t occurred to Grace, but there’s an answering hum low in her body as she considers it. “I… yes.”

“Mm. Good. I’m having fun, didn’t want to stop yet. Are you good? If so, turn over.”

“Huh?” But Sarah just gestures.

“Turn over. As entertaining as this was, I keep having to remind you that I’m not as sturdy as you are.”

“You’re getting old.”

“I’ll still kick your ass, kiddo.”

“I’m at least thirty.”

Sarah leans back and Grace sees her wince a little, rotate a shoulder. She can take a hint, and finally goes onto her stomach. The sheets, messed up though they are, feel good to her – cool against her chest, her arms, her face.

“You’re going to want to keep a hand free,” comments Sarah from above and behind her. “Easier to touch yourself, that way. I don’t want to risk straining my wrist.”

“So I’ve gotta do all the work in–” mid-quip, shifting to be on her knees, Sarah presses insistent, lazily, circling around her entrance and Grace loses that train of thought.

“No, because unless you have any objections, I’d like to fuck you at the same time.”

“…Oh.”

“I do need your okay on this. We don’t have to.”

“No, I…” Grace swallows, squeezes her eyes and a fist shut. “Yes, I want you to.”

“Mm…” Sarah hums. “Well, since you asked…”

A flash of annoyance again. “I didn’t–”

Maybe it’s a relief to both of them that Sarah cuts her off by sinking in. Full, Grace is so full and for a second that’s all she feels. Other sensations start coming back to her – her knees, spread shoulder-width; the arousal still between her legs, the answering purr of her brightened mind and senses; her forearms, sunk into the mattress, hands gripping over the side; Sarah sliding an arm around her middle to hold her up, while the other is angled behind her, pressed up to the last joint inside her.

“More?” breathes Sarah, sliding slowly in and out, and Grace nearly cries out.

“Yes, please–!” She’s only ever asked that of one person before, but Sarah adds another and, “oh, _yes_.”

It’s just as good, Grace thinks, as she tilts her hips up, urges back against Sarah with her forehead dropping to the bed.

“Greedy.”

“First time I’ve done this without worrying that…” But she doesn’t finish, just rocks back steadily. 

Sarah continues the thought for her. “Without worrying you were about to die, right?” 

If there’s anyone else who would get it…

“Yeah.”

Sarah hits something inside her and for an instant, it’s nearly a whiteout. “Oh _shit,_ please, that–”

“You haven’t even started on yourself yet!”

“And yet you oblige–!” Grace stifles a scream into the mattress as it happens again, a sharp flare – not the kind that means she’s at the edge, not at all, this is something else but no less pleasing. She knows a dare when she hears one, though, and reaches down.

Her fingers brush the base of Sarah’s for an instant, where they’re buried in her, and she moans when she confirms how deep Sarah got. Is it just her, or is Sarah’s breathing shallow? She’s wet enough that she finds the best approach quickly, knowing what kind of pressure and motion she’s after if she wants to get off again – and she does, want to that is, why not? Might be good for her… oh.

This one is sweeter, heavier. Where the last one was high and fast and then over, this one is gathering weight, mass, more sustained and less urgent.

She’s losing focus. This is so much.

“Sarah–!” Grace manages to gasp, and this time she’s positive; Sarah responds to the noise, loses the carefulness of her rhythm for a second before she recovers.

“What, are you coming for me again?”

Yes, _yes,_ that’s all it takes. It burns through her, obliterates, clears her out in a way that purifies where the blackouts muddy. Grace can hear herself again as it beats through her, face buried in the sheets, muffling every sound that she makes. Somehow, she holds still even as Sarah continues to move inside her; even though she knows Sarah can feel this too, how long it goes. At last, the stimulation stops being pleasurable and moves into overwhelming. Grace moves, shifts off her, collapses to the side, curling into the blankets; she’s faintly aware that Sarah is wiping off her fingers as she starts coming back into her body.

“… Damn,” Sarah comments at last. “Better?”

“Mm…”

“Cause I’m not about to cuddle you.”

“I’d subdue you if you tried,” Grace retorts, but there’s no fight left in her tone; it’s all been fucked out of her for the time being, which is kind of nice. A pause, then: “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it.” Sarah clears her throat. Grace finds herself reaching out impulsively, with the hand that wasn’t recently preoccupied.

“Hey…”

“What?”

“…Can I do anything for you?”

“If we’re going to, we’d better make it fast.”

“What, and deny me the pleasure of getting you back?” Grace grins, she feels it come out a little crooked. “You _almost_ have me convinced that you’re unaffected. Almost. But you’re not, are you?”

“Think I know better than to answer that.”

This time, when Grace engages, it’s with a fluidity and finesse that was lacking before – without any strain or hesitation, she’s able to flip and pin Sarah down against the bed. Could be she was right – Grace has been tapping the augments so frequently, lately, and without any cooldown in between. There’s a possibility that she was frying her capacity for nuance or control. Doesn’t seem to be an issue with that anymore – now, she knows just how much pressure to apply for an effect, without making it hurt or causing damage. The intuition for it is back, now that she’s relaxed.

If Sarah is surprised, she hides it well. Not the continued jackhammer of her pulse, though, or the flush making its way up her neck.

Bending low, languid, Grace relishes the buzz of endorphins through her system and the look on Sarah’s face. “I knew it,” she whispers into Sarah’s ear, appreciating the shudder that goes all through her. “Had enough presence of mind to pay attention… you _liked_ getting me off. That did it for you, huh?”

It’s a lot harder to feign a casual air when someone is stroking their hands over your body and murmuring against some of the most sensitive parts of it, Grace knows, and it looks like Sarah isn’t an exception to that general rule.

“You don’t have to answer,” Grace continues without a break. “You gave me a tell, earlier, when you said it’d take a lot more to get you going.”

“Yeah, well, that was before I had a naked cyborg moaning my name,” Sarah quips, but now _she’s_ the one who’s distracted.

Fuck it, she has to use both hands to start undoing Sarah’s belt – the buckle clinks as it falls open, while Grace laughs softly and starts biting controlled kisses down Sarah’s neck. The zipper’s opening sounds loud, as Grace starts drawing it down – a rasp, rustling of fabric. She can hear every breath Sarah’s taking in, the hitch in it.

“Anything you’d like in particular? I’m happy to just do the same for you.”

“I almost miss the part where you weren’t talking to me. You’re getting too comfortable.”

“If it’s a matter of getting me occupied…”

Grace moves down; she’s lanky and tall enough that she needs to kneel fully on the floor, or else she’d just be dangling off the bed, which just… isn’t practical. Once she’s tugged Sarah down further to join her, she reaches her hands above herself to skim over Sarah’s stomach, feeling the muscles there tense. Then she tugs at Sarah’s clothing until it comes completely off, grabs one of the pillows to support Sarah’s lower back; she’ll need all the room she can get to work and wants to be conscientious. Before doing more, she casts her eyes back up to meet Sarah’s; sure enough, the older woman is gazing down at her, eyes wider than Grace thinks she realizes. 

“Too much?”

Sarah swallows hard. “No…”

“Good. Hold still.” And Grace lowers her mouth to her, hooking Sarah’s legs over her shoulders so they can rest against her back. She licks in, hearing the swear as she makes contact, tasting salt and confirming that this entire experience did, in fact, work as foreplay well enough. With one arm she reaches up to scrape along Sarah’s ribcage; with the other, she plays around, teasing as best as she’s learned how until she feels a hand once more on her head, urging her forward.

Grace hums her approval, flattens her tongue and slips some fingers inside simultaneously; “ _Fuck_ ,” she hears from higher up, and knows something must be working right.

She can feel herself getting turned on again. Could be time to deal with that later.

By now there’s a rhythm to what she’s doing – the steady push and pull of her fingers, the circling that she’s working on both inside and out, with her hand and her mouth, and when she again peers up from under her brow she can see that Sarah has thrown her head back, breathes like she’s running. She’s tugging on Grace’s hair, a little, and as Grace _moves,_ makes a sound – Grace wonders if Sarah’s aware that she’s making her job easier, the way her hips have started moving.

She’s quiet, coming, a bitten off “ _Fuck_ –!” the only indication before Sarah is tightening around her fingers, before she’s holding Grace up and into her with her thighs and shaking apart. When she’s had enough, she pulls Grace up like she’s hauling her out of water, and Grace goes gladly.

“I can’t remember the last time anyone’s been brave enough to do something like that,” Sarah finally says once she’s caught her breath, and Grace laughs.

“Their fucking loss. Need more?”

“I know my limits. Today, no, I'm good. You?”

“Wouldn’t want you to strain something, remember?” Grace smirks, crawling back up onto the bed; Sarah looks _exhausted_. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

And she does, as Sarah looks on with her mouth slightly open and eyes partially closed until she remembers to gather her expression; Grace gets herself off one last time, quick, efficient, laid back and rolling against her own hand until a final orgasm sears through her and leaves her spent. All of this is only temporary. Like a hard reset. They're probably not going to have enough time for another round today or any other, but... well, Grace is glad that she got this. She feels well-grounded in her body, realigned; she laughs, because if she thought she was going to live long enough, this could qualify as a form of maintenance. But Grace doesn't expect that's going to happen, either. 

Grace collapses after that, next to Sarah. Looks her over, before tucking her own hair behind her ear. “I was wrong about you. You don’t hate people at all.”

“Oh, is that the impression you got?” Sarah quips back, but the bite of her sarcasm is weaker than before. “Clearly I’ve got to work harder at it.”

“No, you don’t. This is all that keeps you going, isn’t it? Not just John. The rest of the whole fucking world. You’re as scared of losing it as I am.”

“Keep talking, and I’m going to make you regret everything we just did.”

“I’m right, aren’t I?”

“…those are decades of my life that I drink to forget.”

Grace takes a chance and reaches over, takes Sarah’s hand in hers. Sarah stiffens under her touch, slightly, before relaxing again, but otherwise doesn’t react.

“I understand. I’m not going to push you on it. I’m scared to lose it too. And her.”

“…Yeah, well. Don’t fuck it up like I did and maybe we’ll get a chance.”

“No, maybe _she_ will.”

“Touché.”

They lie that way for a while.

“You throw off heat like an RTG.”

“It’s the faster metabolism. We should get some clothes on.”

“Might leave the wrong impression if we don’t and Dani comes back.”

Sarah heaves herself up and stretches as soon as Grace rolls off of the bed and towards the bathroom to get cleaned up.

“Good news – you didn’t fuck me up at all as far as I can tell.” Touches her jaw, then reconsiders. “Maybe just a little.”

“Yeah, well…” Grace says, looking back over her shoulder before rapping on the door frame with her knuckles. “You deserved it. Like you said.”

Sarah grins from where she’s seated at the edge of the bed, about to light a cigarette that she's pulled from somewhere in her bag, and it’s easy enough to flash a smile back.

\--

Sarah is wrapping up in the shower when Dani returns, knocking against the door like she expects it to be locked again and beaming like the sun when Grace lets her in. She has her hair tucked under the baseball cap and is wearing shades, at least, plus a hoodie that Grace suspects was nabbed from in Sarah’s things; Dani winks conspiratorially as she folds it back into Sarah’s bag, confirming that thought.

“Be careful,” Grace says low and quiet, as the water turns off. “Don’t let her realize you’ve been going through there.”

“Don’t worry – I really don’t think she’d do anything about it.”

“I guess you’re right.” Grace grapples with how she feels for a second, then blurts out, “don’t do that again. Next time, if you want to wake up and sneak out, you take me with you.”

“You needed your sleep. Besides, look how much good it did you! You’ve got more energy than I’ve seen since the first…” But Dani trails off, and Grace sees the sadness well up even as Dani smiles. There's a pang, then - because Dani _doesn't_ know. Might never find out what they were to each other. 

The bathroom door opens, revealing Sarah in her fatigues and somehow, already, her shirt and vest; Grace isn’t sure when she had time to retrieve those. Sarah nods at them both before picking up her aviators, slipping them over her eyes. She picks up the chip-bag she keeps her phone in, rustles it like she's confirming that the item is still inside, and then nods again. When she speaks, it's in the same short tone that Grace remembers. It'll be like nothing's changed between them. That's for the best. 

“Good, you’re back. Let’s move.”

And they do. 

**Author's Note:**

> There are so many authors in this fandom creating amazing Dani/Grace works, replete with pining, complicated feelings, warmth and angst and comfort? I am so content with that, so I wanted to uh... explore a very different kind of dynamic instead. Not gonna lie, I was really into the way that Grace and Sarah kept sizing each other up in the film and posturing; this is my initial take on what it would have been like if they, y'know, did something about it. 
> 
> I may need to go back and change elements of this once I have a chance to go see the movie again, but in the interim consider this a bonus scene from the motel, before they make the decision to head up to the border. 
> 
> Title and other lyrics hinted at in the fic summary come from the song Touch, by July Talk, which is quite sexy.  
> Other lyrics at the start of the fic are pulled from Four Walls by Charlotte Martin.


End file.
